


eight miles high and falling fast

by wan17



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Love Confessions, M/M, McCree wears his heart on his sleeve too much for his own good, Post-Recall, They go on a date to Route 66
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 18:37:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9779918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wan17/pseuds/wan17
Summary: The green of Genji's visor flickers, diffracts on the chrome of the diner table. He takes McCree's hand across the table, grasping him from around his mug. The metal is warm from the coffee."I am with you," Genji says. "Isn't that enough?"-Part of McGenji Valentine Exchange 2017, for Jaixo!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jaixo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaixo/gifts).



> Prompts were: "Something silly, cuddling or them being so sickingly lovey dovey that hanzo would be disgusted".
> 
> Took the silly/cuddling prompts and ran with them, with lots of plot filler before anything actually happens.
> 
> Happy Valentine's, Jaixo!

"You all can have a celebratory leave," Winston announces, grinning, wiping his glasses. "Now that we've exposed Talon, the UN is reviewing the Petras Act, which means we're officially going legal."

In the background, Lena whoops, and Genji can see Lucio grinning broadly next to Hana, bumping his shoulder against hers.

“A week sound enough for all of you?”

The excitement is strong in the air, and there’s already a chatter beginning, a buzz. A few rows in front of Genji, Mei whoops with a hand and then cradles her wrist, stuck in a cast - the biotic fluid had all been used up in the aftermath of the final battle, and the new shipment isn’t coming in until next week. Bastion chirps next to her, and she laughs at it, Snowball hovering behind her and chirping back in return.

Some wounds will take longer to heal. The loss of Reinhardt months ago had weighed heavily on everyone; during downtime, as a mourning ritual, they’d watched the movies he had been featured in, though the actors who played him never quite matched up to his actual size. It had been funny how much they’d used him as comic relief, a mood lightener after the heavy parts between Morrison, Amari, and Reyes. He had always been in good spirits. Genji had never been close to him. A meeting, once, during Winston’s graduation ceremony, and after Recall, he’d reserved his mentoring towards the younger members.

They couldn't recover his body, but there were enough pictures of him strewn across the base. Zarya had asked to collect them, made copies and put them in an album. She had grieved more deeply than the rest of them, since she'd spent the most time with him apart from Brigitte.

He'd died protecting her, charging at an infected omnic meant to blow up just as her particle barrier fizzled out. She sits with Brigitte now, on one of the benches, her arm around hers. Brigitte is dwarfed by her, just as Reinhardt had dwarfed Zarya every time they sat next to each other.

Winston continues. "We'll begin rebuilding over here, but if you want to go, just let me and Mercy know.”

Next to Genji, Lena gets up. “Well, chaps, that’s my cue.” Her grin reaches up all the way to the corners of her eyes, her genuine warmth unblemished even in the face of everything that had happened. “Gotta give Emily a visit, she’s been worried. You two take care! Bye!” She gives McCree a nod, pulling her goggles from her hair down over her eyes, and with a laugh, she blinks away.

“Planning on goin’ back to Nepal?” McCree’s smile is lopsided, turning to face him.

There was a time, in Dorado, months ago, when McCree had cornered Genji by a fountain, and sat down with him. They’d always been together, paired together. Genji distracted the enemy enough for McCree to land clear, quick shots on them as they scattered. Winston had realized this early on, and the two of them had been good. Better than good. They’d had the highest success rate of any team on the base.

It helped that both of them weren’t hesitant to kill. A skill, necessitated by their past.

(A mission, once, back when McCree still had his left arm - but McCree doesn’t like speaking about his past, and Genji pretends they meet for the first time when Winston had broadcasted the first recall.)

McCree had cornered Genji by the fountain, and under the 3 am moonlight, scattered newspapers rustling on the floor, Genji had thought that McCree had leaned down, eyes shadowed - but he blinked, and McCree was getting up to leave, lighting a cigar.

Genji hadn’t said anything to stop him.

Under the illumination of the blue light from the screen, the hollow of McCree’s eyes are again shadowed, sallow. 

“I may,” Genji responds noncommittally. “And you? What do you plan to do, McCree? Are you planning on returning to your home?”  
“Funny that, Genji. I ain’t had a home since Switzerland blew up. Probably gonna stay here.”

“You grew up in Route 66, did you not? You mentioned it when we were on that mission in Antarctica. You could not stand the cold.”

“Dunno. I might’ve spent some time there.” McCree looks more than a little shifty, and it’s enough to make Genji’s visor flicker brightly in amusement. He’s twiddling his thumbs, and he isn’t looking Genji in the eye. He responds in less than a beat, though. Happy, perhaps. Genji cannot exactly tell, being out of practice, but he has a large part of his youth was taken up by reading cues from those who have tried to hide them.

“I have spent much of my time with the Shambali already. For all of my travels with my master, I have never been to the deserts of America. You would take me?”

“Hey, now. I never said-”

“You are free, are you not? Let us go.”

McCree’s smile is disbelieving. It’s hard not to be affected by the cheer in the room. “Pretty sure you’d wanna spend your break with someone that’s… not me. You sure? I don’t guarantee you’d wanna stay more than a few hours with me since we don’t actually have to. No mission, n’ all.” He looks happy.

“I suppose we shall see about that. I do not imagine your wanted posters are there without a reason?”

McCree opens his hands palm-up, shrugging. “What can I say. Difficult to find someone who could resist me, ain’t none too sure why someone out there wouldn’t want me.” The shit-eating grin on his face is infectious, and Genji snorts.

“We can fly off tomorrow. It’ll be great. We can be tourists.”

“I take it you will be using the opportunity to dress up?”

“Hell no. I mean yes. What do you mean, dress up?” McCree raises a hand to his heart. “You expectin’ somethin’ from me, Genji? Seems like it’d take a lot of unnecessary prep.”

“I might be.”

“Better try not to disappoint you, then.” Genji watches as McCree gets up a little too fast and almost trips. He starts walking, tipping his hat and readjusting it around his head. He turns back around to look at Genji, using his hand to wave a little goodbye, and then he slams into the doorway. 

Genji gives a chuckle as he hears him walk away, the jingling of his spurs interspersed with a muttered string of curses.

In the morning, they meet up in front of the gates. They’re waiting for Athena to check them out, make sure that they have the proper security clearances to go. Genji comes on time. McCree, 15 minutes late.

“What in God’s good name are you wearing, Genji?” He has a backpack. Genji has his hand resting on the top of his suitcase.

“You said we were going to be tourists.”

“You know what, I ain’t gonna argue with you. Better than havin’ no decency at all, I guess.”

Genji doesn’t find anything wrong with his hawaiian shirt and the sunglasses tucked on top of his visor. He’d gotten the shirt as a gift from Zenyatta. Genji wore the shirt, and Zenyatta wore the pants. It was a good working relationship.

“Like what you see?” He has his hand on his hip. McCree’s eyes are drawn to it, and he grumbles a quick “maybe”, as Athena finally opens the gate.

“Let’s go, then. Lucio is driving us.”

McCree only looks a little green after he gets off the car. It turns out that Lucio drives the way he skates along the walls. At twice the speed a normal person would go at, and with the same number of stunts attempted. Genji was pretty sure a hovercar wouldn’t be able to somersault from the stabilizing mechanisms, but Lucio had told him, “You gotta believe.” And honestly, doing that hadn’t been hard after one particularly sharp turn.

“Give me a sec,” McCree says, holding his stomach, as Genji waves Lucio goodbye. “Think I need a good few years to recover from that.”

Their flight to the mainland is a good two hours away, so Genji busies himself with looking for souvenirs. McCree sticks a couple of fridge magnets on him, and then he starts getting adventurous, and then they get politely asked to leave several shops. As always, McCree grumbles about the crowd. It’s too much for him, and Genji wordlessly takes him out back into the parking lots, where there are fewer people around. He looks much better now, taking out a cigar to light it up.

McCree doesn’t know as much about cars as Genji does, but he seems like he enjoys listening to how Genji points out how the shitty builds of some vans. Genji likes his cars sleek and smooth.

He gets ill again as they board the plane. He’s understandably nervous about flying with these many civilians. Both of them lift their luggage into the overhead cabinets with ease, but McCree’s hand, Genji notices, is finely trembling. Genji plies him with wine once they take off. It’s terrible wine, in little bottles barely the size of Genji’s palm, but McCree doesn’t mind so much. He falls asleep on Genji’s shoulder accidentally, his hat on his lap, and Genji only wakes him up when they touch down.

They still have a long trip ahead of them. Genji watches while McCree has his lunch near the transfer lounge. Airport food, Genji remembers, is by no means decent, but it is miles better than airplane food. Considering the two of them will be stuck on a hunk of floating metal for the next 16 hours, McCree still pokes his food around, glum.

“Why the long face?”

“Don’t like travellin’ all too much. Did too much of that before.”

“Getting cold feet?”

“Hell, don’t think I’ll ever have cold feet when I’ve got boots as warm as these.” McCree brings his legs out from under the table and clicks his heels against the floor, the spurs chiming.

He’s smiling again, though, as he looks at them, and Genji goes to buy McCree some coffee. He accepts it gratefully.

They get on the plane and Genji ends up with the majority of it spent playing tetris with a stranger while McCree is asleep. They manage to wreck him completely, and McCree looks at his screen and laughs loudly when a message from his opponent appears saying, “u suk n00b”. 

Genji almost wants to take him onto the floor of the aisle and beat him up. He refrains, though.

They finally land near the border of the Southern States. The Omnic War had deleted most of the South’s old terrain, leaving vast swathes of infamous red desert and gouged earth. The Northern States’ government had built stretches of railway over the land instead.

Here, nobody really recognizes them. While the public obviously knew Winston and Lena because of their roles as spokespersons with the UN after the dismantling of Talon, McCree and Genji had both refrained from the spotlight. They were still obviously recognizable from shaky video clips passersby had taken of their battles, but with Genji’s armor off and McCree’s hat and serape folded and tucked in his backpack, the two of them are different people.

The train ride is had with little fanfare. This far out into the desolation of the South, there isn’t much to see. Just miles and miles of red desert for hours and hours. McCree explains that most people stay on the trains. For them, the view is enough. Rarely do people actually use the trains as a means of transport; rather, it’s something touristy, for the Northerners to feel like they’re cultured. But also, he accedes, for some older folk to look at where they used to live, even if it don’t look much like what it used to. Genji doesn’t ask why McCree looks oddly reminiscent as he stares out of the window. He settles in his seat, a plush thing that he appreciates the aesthetic of. McCree has his hat and serape back on, and he makes for a picture, framed by the sunlight beating in from the window. 

It makes Genji wish he’d thought to bring a camera along.

A few stops later, Genji steps out into the empty station. After a quick trip to the toilet, McCree joins him. “Still hotter than a devil’s asscrack,” he says, interrupted by a plume of red dust thrown in by the breeze that has him sneezing.

When they step out of the station and into the road, McCree tries to take out a cigar from its sheer metal case and drops it. He hastily picks it up. Draws a stick. Lights it. He takes a long pull from it, and exhales, the smoke blowing out and upwards and disappearing. 

“So, Route 66. The place I was born and raised in.”

McCree throws his arm out and makes a sweep in a general direction. He’s chewing on his cigar, and his eyes glance at Genji every few moments, as if looking for Genji to say something.

“Are you going to show me around?”

“H- Yeah. Yeah, I am. What, not impressed?” McCree gives a nervous chuckle. It’s like he doesn’t expect Genji’s response.

Genji has never seen land so vast and wide before this. Even in his travels with Zenyatta, the most he’d seen were mountain ranges covered in thickly piled snow, and cities that bustled with color. Here, there are enough chasms to make it seem like they are both on islands above the world. It is like coming to a different universe.

“I am. But I am also eager to learn more about your old haunts, from your perspective.”

“Don’t need to make it sound as formal as all that,” McCree replies, but Genji can tell that he is more at ease from the way that he gives his little half-shrug, and gathers more of his serape over his shoulder.

There’s underbrush, and cacti, and not much in the way of plant life in between. Lizards occasionally scurry through the ground, kicking up dirt. McCree explains that the town is sprawled across the cliffs. The place where he’s taking Genji, the place where he was born. 

Before he’d rejoined Overwatch, he’d tied up all his loose ends, went back here once. Decided never to come here again.

“Sorry,” Genji says. “I do not mean to make you uncomfortable by being here.”

“No, not that I don’t want to be here. I- it’s more like, I guess- I don’t mind so much now. Maybe because I sort of wanna know. What it’s like now here, now that everything’s over. You’ll probably be bored. It’s really- it’s really nothing to see.” 

“I will be the judge of that.”

The two of them leave their bags at a motel called Cave Inn. It seems to be the only one in this part of town. McCree seems surprised. “It’s refurbished,” he comments. “There used to be a sofa here.” The owners are a young couple, younger than McCree and Genji both. They are kind. They say that they fixed the place up themselves. It’s a good town, they say. Near to the station. Used to be difficult to set up so near the road, but they managed to rehaul the place from the ground up together a year ago. They’d heard that a company’d bought up the land and was planning to do some massive redevelopments to the area, and it wouldn’t hurt to get a stake in it before it developed into a tourist attraction. There weren’t many historical towns left, and Route 66 would be perfect.

There’s a bar in the center of town, but that seems to be the only attraction the whole town has to offer at the moment. In the day, it’s closed, but when they come near the front door, the two of them can faintly hear the sound of music filtering out from the cracks between the planks of the wooden walls. There’s the promise of more, though. Apart from a gas station and a large warehouse, the majority of the town is involved in reconstruction work. There’s tens of workers going around and laying in concrete. It’s not exactly the scene that Genji expected to see, from the way that McCree had talked about it to him while they’d been traveling here.

“Had my face beaten in the outhouse here. Had a little moon carved in the door, so that it wouldn’t smell too bad inside. Did nothing for it. First time my nose was ever broken,” he says. There’s no outhouse now. A steel beam has replaced it.

“I tuned up my first motorcycle in the garage over there,” McCree points out as he’s turning around the corner, but there’s only an empty lot, and a pile of blue rubble by its side. 

He can see McCree get increasingly agitated as they pass yet another scaffold with green plastic netting draped over it, the omnic workers having a quick break and laughing, unruffled by the afternoon heat.

“It’s not supposed to be like this. Route 66 is supposed to be run-down. Bad. It’s a terrible place.”

“I don’t see what’s wrong with it.”

“They’re turning it into a fucking tourist spot! Do you know how many people the Deadlock killed here? And they’re just casually using that to make people come over, say that a ‘notorious gang used to have this place as their home base’? We had this place for 30 years!”

“We?”

“They,” McCree corrects himself. “The Deadlocks, I mean.”

“What did you think would happen when you drove the Deadlock Gang away from here?”

“I didn’t expect anything to happen.”

“Times change. Places change.”

“Don’t treat me like a moron. I know that,” McCree snaps.

Genji is quiet after that.

There’s an odd silence between the two of them. The sun is setting, but McCree makes no move to suggest dinner. Genji doesn’t prompt it, either. He’d had a nutrient pack on the train, and that had been enough for him.

It stretches for ages. There’s only so much they can do out before they have to return to the inn, and the view of the gorges is obscured by all the work being done.

The two of them pass by a sign. Panorama Diner. Genji breaks the silence and leads McCree back to where it points. He seems reluctant to join him, but he does it anyway.

As they enter the diner, there’s a little jingle that sounds when the door opens. A cook with deeply-lined eyes looks at the two of them and grunts.

“Thought you wouldn’t want to show your face here ever again.”

“Good to see you still recognize my face, Shannon.” McCree tips his hat at her, and she turns away.

“You’re bad for business.”

“I know.”

“We’re closing in 5 minutes.”

“I know.”

She brings them two cups of coffee. There’s no one else there, even though there’s rows of seats with what Genji thinks is the most spectacular view of the gorges that he’s ever seen. The diner’s located right on the edge of a particularly steep cliff, and since they’re seated by the booth, Genji can look down and see the river flowing miles underneath them, barely a white line in the moonlight.

"Tastes like shit," McCree mutters, "but it's the shit that I was born and raised on." McCree looks reticent, the mug too small between his hands, dwarfed by the leather of his glove, and the metal of his his fingers. His hair hangs over his face, poofing out from underneath the brim of his hat.

“Shannon’s my ma’s sister. Fed me scraps when I was starving as a kid. Guess she still has a soft spot for me.”

He looks wistful, but not melancholy. It's a rare look on him. It's usually a mixture of grief, and fury, when his eyebrows turn up like that, but this far out in the wasteland of the southern states, the look has a different tone. Warm, like the vivid orange of the cliffsides.

“So, how was it? Enjoyed bumfuck nowhere?” McCree feels a little acid in his mouth. 

“You told me that times change.” He takes a swig of his coffee. "Funny how some things never change, huh, Genji. I always thought that getting out of Deadlock meant leaving all the drama behind. Turns out it's been jumping from one frying pan to the next. Wish I'd met someone like your master. Wouldn't have minded spendin' a couple years down in the mountains somewhere, mindin' my own business. Not havin' to run whenever someone recognized my hat."

He pauses, takes a breath. "'m not usually this chatty. Makes me feel like an old man, ramblin'. Guess I'm gettin' further along then I feel like I am," McCree says, smiling into the porcelain.

"I just thought… At least, one place in my life wouldn’t change, wouldn’t disappear. Not like Overwatch. I thought Overwatch would finally be somewhere to call home. Didn't expect to have to lose it all again. You don't realize what you have until it's gone.”

He’s suddenly fierce. "I should've talked sense into Reyes, noticed something was wrong." A haunted look passes over his face.

"Said something to them. Said something to Captain Amari, before she left. Told her how much she meant the world to me."

McCree crumples.

"And now they're gone, and I can't say nothing to them no more."

 

There’s a pause between the two of them. The diner is dead silence, just Genji and McCree. Shannon’s slipped out in the interim.

“There are some endings that are new beginnings. You just need to learn how to say goodbye. Isn’t that what we are doing here? Saying goodbye?” he asks.

“I don’t fucking know. You wanted to come here, so I did, and it’s like everything the gang did here’s gone, and everywhere is rebuilding, and no one- no one remembers how many people died, even though I remember every single person I had to watch die.” McCree’s voice breaks on the end of the sentence. “I have no one left.”

The green of Genji's visor flickers, diffracts on the chrome of the diner table. He takes McCree's hand across the table, grasping him from around his mug. The metal is warm from the coffee. He brings his hand to his faceplate, directly over where his mouth would be.

"I am with you," Genji says. "Isn't that enough?"

McCree takes a heavy, shuddering breath. Genji can feel the tremors even through his sensors. He rubs him, on the joint of his thumb, even though McCree can't feel it.

It's a few moments of silence in the empty 10pm diner before McCree takes Genji's hand and lifts it, pressing it to his mouth, leaving a kiss on his knuckles. His eyelashes are wet, but he isn't crying. He's smiling, a wry, shy thing, too small, like it's afraid to make itself known on his face.

"More than enough. Always. Genji. I love you. You might not feel the same way about me, but shit, ever since we met again, you’re- I couldn’t help it.”

It feels less like a confession rather than a confirmation of what Genji has always known.

“Do you think I would have come here with you if I do not feel the same way?”

McCree looks up at him in disbelief. Genji’s steam vents click, and he gets up, taking the mugs with him. He brings them to the counter and leaves them there, one empty, one full. Shannon is still probably out back. He’s too embarrassed to look at McCree properly, gauge his reaction. They’re both in their mid-thirties, nearing forties, but the sense of headiness and how unsure and surreal the whole situation is has Genji feeling like he is back in his youth.

The walk to Cave Inn is uneventful. The coffee is enough to keep them awake in the absence of streetlights, the lights on Genji's shoulders piercing through the darkness. 

 

The place is surprisingly well furnished. “Must be the new management,” McCree says, voice wry. “Used to be a true shithole, with flies everywhere. They really changed it up. Guess some change ain’t that bad after all,” and then Genji’s mask clicks off with a depressurizing hiss and McCree shuts up.

They take it slow and sweet. McCree kisses up and down Genji’s neck and jaw before Genji redirects him to the seams between his muscles, the places where his flesh meets carbon fiber mesh and metal. McCree seems to understand, and Genji starts breathing shallowly at the pain from the stimulation of the nerves he has there. The feeling is good. It reminds him that he is human.

After a while, Genji pushes McCree down onto the bed. He seems surprised by the change in position, but he doesn’t seem to mind, staring at Genji from underneath hooded eyelids.

Genji leans down to kiss his mouth once, remembering where McCree had tried to kiss him before. McCree gets very responsive to the attention Genji pays to these spots. He finds that McCree’s nipples are sensitive things, and he ends up flicking them with his thumb until they turn hard and perky, and then he licks them enough to have McCree’s hips jerking up into his hands. He holds McCree down ruthlessly, even if he knows that at any time The hair on his chest tickles Genji’s face, and this close to him, the smell of musk is overwhelming.

Genji is all too happy to follow McCree’s happy trail to his cock.

“Can you be a good boy and spread your legs for me?”

McCree complies without so much as a pause, the speed at which he takes off his belt and shimmies out of his jeans almost comical.

He’s already half-hard.

“Genji, please,” McCree whines, and then Genji finally lets up and gives him a hard suck. It startles a long moan out of McCree, and Genji can faintly taste the salt on his head. As Genji takes him into his mouth, McCree groans. He’s very vocal, Genji realizes, and he’s surprised by how much that arouses him. McCree tries to have his hand on Genji’s head, and Genji allows it. He’s scrabbling for purchase on the metal while babbling about how good it feels, and Genji finds it cute.

He teases him by playing with his balls at the same time. Once Genji passes his thumb over McCree’s hole, McCree’s hips suddenly jerk up and Genji’s nose is buried into the hair at the base, his throat spasming and around McCree’s length. He can feel the warmth sliding in his mouth.

“Shit, sorry, Genji, that felt so good,” McCree says, panting, and Genji releases McCree’s softening erection to show him his mouth full of cum. McCree involuntarily twitches at the sight, and Genji draws up to share the taste of McCree with himself, pushing it into his mouth with his tongue. McCree swallows.

“Do you need me to… do you too?”

“I have nothing for you to do me with, McCree. There are some downsides to being a cyborg, even if it comes with inhuman agility and strength,” Genji replies in good humor. “Don’t worry about it.” He gives McCree’s forehead a kiss, and then McCree excuses himself to go shower.

 

When McCree comes back from the bathroom, Genji rolls over to give him some space. He mutters a quick “thanks” to Genji, and slides underneath the covers, laying a hand across Genji’s waist. Genji scoots up closer to him. McCree gives a little “mmph”, and he readjusts himself, so that his skin won’t touch the vents on Genji’s shoulders. They’re still a little hot.

"I have heard," Genji murmurs carefully, "of a vigilante, spotted in Hanamura. He stopped a robbery at the Rikimaru Ramen shop."

“Caught me. Have to admit to that, best damn noodles I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Why?”

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

“What about it?”

McCree turns over in bed, arms still around Genji. “We were in Gibraltar to set up a new facility. Saw you, walking around. I broke into Angela’s office to annoy her. Maybe because I wanted to talk to her about you. Wanted to know who you were. Ended up, er, accidentally lookin’ at your file.”

In the darkness, Genji can’t see his face, but McCree’s heartbeat picks up a little underneath Genji’s palm.

“Didn’t want to pry. But I did. Turns out it was the best decision I’ve ever made.”

“You are a sap,” Genji says fondly. It moves something within him, to know that McCree has had his eyes on Genji for so long.

“I know. Should have said somethin’ earlier. We could have had somethin’ earlier.”

“The time would have been inopportune.”

“I. Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

“We still have plenty of time.”

“Yeah.”

“We beat Talon, saved the world. Not many people can say that.”

McCree laughs. “You make it sound as if we did somethin’ special apart from what we usually do.”

“You do not have to do anything special if you are already extraordinary.”

“You know, Genji, people normally call me the charmer. They should meet you,” McCree says, a little sleepily, a yawn tacked onto the end of his sentence.

“You should introduce me to them, then, Jesse.”

McCree buries his face into the crook of Genji’s shoulder. Genji’s heart is pounding from saying McCree’s given name.

“‘ll be glad to. Not everyone can say they’ve got someone as hot as their partner. ‘Night, Genji.”

“Goodnight.”

Genji can feel McCree’s heart pounding for a little while before it starts to slow. He can’t imagine it is comfortable for McCree to have to fold himself around all of Genji’s edges, but somehow, McCree doesn’t seem to mind. His breathing eventually becomes steady and deep, and Genji looks out into the night sky from their window.

The stars aren’t as impressive as the ones scattered over the mountains. They don’t even shine as brightly, and Genji cannot see the moon from his position on the bed.

But somehow, Genji thinks that it is an incredible sight to behold.


End file.
